


From Rome, With Love

by morallygreywaren (DontDrinkColdCoffee)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Really Needs A Break, But I Don't Know If These Books Really Leave You Any Choice, Even Tough It's A Little Heart-Breaking In The Gansey Department, Fear of Flying, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rooftop Kisses, School Trip, So That's What This Is, dream things, when in rome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5930941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontDrinkColdCoffee/pseuds/morallygreywaren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"I take it you're joining us in the old country then?"</em><br/><em>There wasn’t a single thing in Adam’s life that he didn’t have to fight tooth and bone for. Being granted a trip to Europe seemed incredulous at best, but downright impossible the more Adam thought about it.</em><br/>Aglionby's new Latin teacher has organised a school trip to Rome. But Gansey has already been there, Blue doesn't go to Aglionby, and Noah is a ghost.<br/>And well, if the scholarship department is paying for it, Adam might as well spend a week in Italy. For educational purposes. He didn't even know Ronan was coming, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Rome, With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a bad alteration of a Bond film that has nothing at all to do with the content of this fic.
> 
> You might want to listen to [Roman Holiday](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heMTVlawFmM) by Halsey or [Can't Help Falling In Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heMTVlawFmM) covered by Twenty One Pilots, if you're into the whole listening while reading combo :)
> 
> (I decided to put everything in one chapter which unfortunately deleted a few of your comments on Chapter II - I am terribly sorry and just wanted to let you know that they are all appreciated!!)

It was rare for students at Aglionby Academy to unequivocally agree on something (even Henry Cheng had only won president of student council with a very marginal majority), but if there was anything at all in this world, it was that their new Latin teacher was the best they had ever had.

Not so much because Mr Fairhead’s lessons seemed to be more informative or educational than those of Greenmantle or Whelk, but because he was fun. He cared for what he taught, and he cared for his students, so much so that even Ronan Lynch had warmed up to him.

That’s why Adam’s head perked up immediately when Mr Fairhead announced: “Okay, enough grammar and testing for today, boys, there are only so many conditional clauses one can take. I wanted to announce an extracurricular.”

Adam closed his pen and shook out his wrist. If it was anything to push his GPA, he would gladly do it, even though his marks had skyrocketed ever since Mr Fairhead had begun teaching. He pushed his test sheet to the edge of his desk for Mr Fairhead to collect.

“I’ve spoken to the school board,” Mr Fairhead continued as he made his rounds, “and they are willing to give you a week of in late March for a school trip to Rome. It’s voluntary, of course, but I think it’s a great opportunity to put our dry theory into practice and see the roots of this language we are studying.”

When he reached his desk again, he procured a stack of forms from a drawer and began handing them out. “If you’re willing to partake, please get a filled out form back to me by the end of the week, along with a copy of your pass port, the direct debit, and for those of you who are underage, a signature of your parents.”

Adam’s heart sank when he received the form. For the first time in his life, a signature from his parents wouldn’t be a problem anymore – he had turned eighteen the previous summer – but when his eyes fell on the prize of the school trip, his eyes nearly watered.

He pushed the form into his planner and fixed his stare on the black board. It was not like he had ever fooled himself into thinking about travelling, let alone leaving the United States. Though suddenly, summering in Maine seemed a lot more doable than a single week in Europe.

“If you don’t want to come along – that’s fine by me, I know the wonders of spring break, and I’ve arranged with the board that you will get the week off regardless.” Mr Fairhead winked at the class and glanced at his watch. “And with that, keep your finals in mind and have a nice afternoon. Class dismissed!”

Adam suppressed a sigh and started packing away his pens and books. The more he thought about it, the more appealing a week off started to seem. He could work more shifts at the garage to save up, start studying for his finals and get some long-deserved sleep if Ronan and Gansey were gone.

Although when he looked at Gansey’s desk, he saw that Gansey had left the form behind there, an absent-minded expression on his face as he shouldered his school back and turned around to wait for Adam and Ronan.

It was a second later that Ronan caught up with him and bumped their shoulders together. Ronan would like Rome, Adam thought. With more churches than you could count on both hands, every day was as holy as a Sunday.

But when he looked up at Ronan, all he got from him was a curious look.

* * *

Ever since the last term of high school had started, Gansey had begrudgingly offered one of their Monmouth afternoons every week for shared study sessions instead of Glendower hunts.

It did nothing to silence the clock he had in him, the one he could almost physically hear counting down and constricting his throat, but it was the only way to get Ronan to actually study and Adam to stop fretting, and doing it at Monmouth didn’t make Blue feel left out, so all in all it worked out perfectly.

Some days, Noah even made them coffee and cookies.

Gansey was sitting on the couch, reading a book for an upcoming history test and casually taking notes, which was hard with Blue’s head in his lap, but he was far from complaining.

Adam and Ronan were sitting in front of the couch, Adam half leaning against Gansey’s leg. He got out his planner to mark something done, when Blue turned her head on Gansey’s lap.

“What’s this?” she asked with genuine interest, pointing at the form that had fallen out of Adam’s planner.

Gansey’s body tensed.

“Just a school trip,” Adam said and stuffed the from back into his planner.

“Oh, nice. Where to?” Blue had turned to Gansey again, peering up at him. Her smile hadn’t faltered, but Gansey remembered the last time she couldn’t come along to something, and while Blue wasn’t bitter and wouldn’t necessarily bring it up, he didn’t want to put her through feeling left out again.

“To Rome?” he said, his voice involuntarily going up at the end.

“In New York?” Blue asked.

“No,” Gansey said, and pushed his fingers into her hair a little, careful to not draw any attention to it, “in Italy.”

“Oh,” Blue said, looking as put out as he’d expected. Ronan pretended not to notice, and Adam stared at his feet. It was true that they got more opportunities, simply because they went to a different school. But Gansey assumed this was one they were going to miss out on as a group.

“Yeah,” he said, returning to his book, “I’m not going, anyway.”

Adam looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“He’s already been, what’s the appeal?” Ronan chimed in without looking up from his book before Gansey even had a chance to answer.

It was the truth, but it wasn’t the reason. The last week of March wasn’t one that Gansey necessarily wanted to miss in Henrietta, if he didn’t had to. St. Mark’s Eve was drawing closer and closer, and apart from the fact that maybe, maybe he wouldn’t live that long, he _had_ to find Glendower. Now more than ever.

Gansey swallowed. “Are you going?” he asked Ronan, carefully avoiding Blue’s sad gaze.

Ronan shrugged and leaned his head back against Blue’s legs. “What for?”

“To push your grade,” Adam mumbled under his breath and more into his chest than anything else, but Blue still chuckled and rearranged her head on Gansey’s lap into a more comfortable position.

“Very funny, Parrish,” Ronan snorted and punched Adam’s shoulder.

Gansey shook his head and rolled his eyes. But if they all stayed in Henrietta _and_ had a week off, they could spend the time exploring Cabeswater. And just like that, Gansey’s heart grew a little lighter.

* * *

An extra shift at the garage almost always seemed like a good idea to Adam the second it was offered. But sitting in class the next day, trying to keep his eyes open and hands from shaking of exhaustion, made it seem like the biggest mistake he had made in a long time.

When the bell finally rang at the end of the class, he allowed himself a second to close his eyes before he started stacking up his books, his limbs heavy as stone.

He almost didn’t notice Mr Fairhead coming until he was standing right in front of him.

“Mr Parrish?” Mr Fairhead said, leaning against the table in front of Adam’s and smiling down at him.

Adam looked up, trying to figure out if he had missed any of his Latin classes.

Mr Fairhead cleared his throat. “It has come to my attention that your current external situation might prevent you from joining us on our trip to Rome.”

Adam looked back down at his books again, and the light grease stains under his finger nails. It’s not like it needed pointing out, but then, rarely a day passed on which he wasn’t reminded how little he fit in here. “I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled.

“Oh no, don’t be,” Mr Fairhead said with an amicable smile and sat down in front of Adam, the back of his chair between his legs. “I wanted to talk to you because I made a little trip to the scholarship department. They are willing to cover your expenses for this trip on top of your existing funding after I prodded them a little with your stellar track record.”

He clasped his hand down on Adam’s shoulder, which made him flinch slightly. It was on the side with his bad ear, and the sensation was a peculiar one. “Wouldn’t want my best student to miss out on this,” Mr Fairhead added and gave Adam an encouraging smile.

Adam closed his mouth when he realised it was hanging open. Things like this didn’t just happen to Adam. They might if your name was Richard Gansey III, or you had enough money to make the world your playground anyway. There wasn’t a single thing in Adam’s life that he didn’t have to fight tooth and bone for. Being granted a trip to Europe seemed incredulous at best, but downright impossible the more Adam thought about it.

“But I – I’m not.” Adam swallowed. “Ronan is top of the class.”

“About that,” Mr Fairhead released Adam’s shoulder and started rummaging around in his bag until he found a piece of paper that he slid over the desk to Adam with a little smirk. “I would say: Not anymore.”

It was Adam’s test on conditional clauses. There was a huge, red 100 scribbled down and circled in in the upper right corner.

Adam was tempted to rub at his eyes, both because he was tired and because he couldn’t believe- It was the first time he had gotten full marks on a Latin test.

He gaped back up at Mr Fairhead, who was still smirking. “Nice work, Mr Parrish. Should be rewarded, really.”

Adam nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he agreed. Maybe he had accidentally fallen asleep in class and this was just a dream caused by exhaustion.

“I take it you’re joining us in the old country then?” Mr Fairhead asked as he got up from the chair and gathered his bag.

“Y-yes, sir,” Adam said, trying to control his heartbeat when it suddenly kicked in.

“Very well.” Mr Fairhead knocked on his desk. “I will see you in class, Mr Parrish.”

Adam leaned back in his chair when he had left the room, still staring at his Latin test. He was going to be late for PE, but there wasn’t a single care he could muster for it in this moment.

He had just been handed a ticket to Italy. To Rome. The “old country”, as they called it.

He shook his head and laughed a little. Could it be, realistically, that after 18 years, things were finally looking up for him?

* * *

“Don’t you think camping in Cabeswater close to the Vision Tree is a bit, well. Dangerous?” Blue asked after Gansey had proposed his idea to go camping in March the following week.

“We know so much about it now. The Vision Tree is one of the few things remaining that we haven’t figured out. What if it can give us one last clue that would lead us to Glendower?” Gansey protested.

Adam shuddered a little at the idea of spending a prolonged amount of time next to the Vision Tree.

There were no good memories of it, and he’d rather not see anybody else dying. He shot Blue a pointed look.

“So,” Blue started, but Adam wasn’t sure if the message he was trying to convey, to talk Gansey out of it, had reached her. “When is this happening again?”

“The last weekend of March, when it’s warm enough,” Gansey replied.

Adam turned to him. “But that overlaps with the trip to Rome,” he said.

Gansey furrowed his brows and Adam looked at his feet.

“The scholarship department gave me extra funding for it,” he said and scratched the back of his neck.

When he looked up, Gansey’s mouth was hanging open, Ronan’s mouth was curled in a small smile and Blue beamed at him.

“That’s amazing, Adam!” she said and went to hug him, “I hope they cover postcards as well, you need to send me at least three!”

Adam hugged her back and smiled, blushing. He had never liked getting too much attention. “Will do,” he said, and Blue let him go.

Gansey cleared his throat. “Right,” he said, a strange expression on his face that Adam couldn’t quite place, “then I can recalculate the resources for three-“

“I’m going to Rome as well,” Ronan suddenly piped up from where he was sitting, before he went back to tickling Chainsaw’s neck. “Handed the thing in last week.”

Ronan appeared to be completely oblivious to the fact that three of his best friends were staring at him in confusion, until they heard a crackling “Smooooooth, Lynch” floating through the air.

Noah had drawn out the o’s like a ghostly howl before he appeared next to Gansey and propped his elbow up on his shoulder.

“Can I join camping?” he asked and Gansey nodded, slightly startled.

The delighted smile was back on Blue’s face and she jumped up to hug Noah, leaving enough distraction for Adam to steal a glance at Ronan again.

He seemed so untroubled by this entire ordeal, as if it was no big thing to fly across the entire Atlantic, even though Adam knew Ronan had never left the States.

Or maybe it was just that Adam was suddenly hit with a bunch of conflicting emotions. Now that there were two of them, it felt a little like they were leaving the others behind, and were left out just the same from going camping.

And then there was the excitement of getting to spend an entire week just with Ronan, an excitement that, at the same time, was tinged with a smudge of fear.

A week was nothing, a week was a long time. What if he finally got to answer the question what Ronan and him were to each other? And then, then what would he do with the answer?

* * *

Gansey and Blue had accompanied Ronan and Adam to the airport on the Sunday they were leaving for Rome. While it had been meant as a nice gesture, Ronan couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly what it was like to be seen off by both of your parents at the same time: A feeling of immense gratitude mixed with beleaguered annoyance and mild embarrassment.

“Take care of Adam,” Blue had whispered in his ear when she had forced him into a hug, “or you’ve got me to answer to.”

As far as Ronan was concerned, the two of them weren’t dating anymore, but when he had drawn back to look in Blue’s eyes, he had believed every word.

Gansey had pulled the two of them in a hug as well, and then it had all gone faster than expected and they were walking down the aisle of a plane to Italy.

“Mr Parrish, Mr Lynch,” Mr Fairhead greeted them from his seat, “you’ve got seat number 39A and B. Enjoy your flight, I’ll see you in Europe.” He made a little salute with his fingers and winked at them.

Ronan still wasn’t sure if he liked him. But anybody and everything was better than Colin Greenmantle, so if nothing else, Ronan had to appreciate Mr Fairhead for that.

“Do you want to sit at the window?” Ronan asked when Adam stopped next to their seats.

Adam bit his lip.

“I hear first-time flying is easier when you sit next to the window.” Ronan lowered his voice and jerked his head to the side, waiting for Adam to climb in.

He could almost feel the anxiety vibrating through Adam, as if it was threatening to wash over him as well and pull him under.

He nudged Adam’s knee with his. “Hey,” he said, and waited until Adam tore his gaze from the window to look at him, “you’re gonna be fine.”

Adam’s pained expression told him otherwise when he looked over Ronan’s shoulder to see if any of the other boys are watching them.

“It’s a nine hour flight, Ronan,” Adam said, excitement over the trip and fear of flying clearly mixing on his face. He took a deep breath in and pressed himself back against the back of his seat. “I think I might be sick.”

For a few beats, Ronan just stared at him. Adam looked so small in his seat, like he would give everything in the world to be anywhere but there in this moment. But then he cracked one eye open and lifted one corner of his mouth in a half-hearted attempt of a smile for Ronan.

He liked to think that he had himself under control, but it was moments like this that caused little shivers to run down Ronan’s spine and brought his blood to boil. It felt like his entire body was drawn towards Adam, every inch of him itching to touch, to comfort him.

Ronan pulled his gaze away and stopped a passing stewardess. “Excuse me, Miss?”

The stewardess turned to him with a smile. “I tend to suffer from motion sickness, would it be possible to get a paper bag, maybe?” he asked and gave her a smile that kept most of his teeth in his mouth.

“Of course,” she said and went off to fetch one.

One of their classmates behind them snorted a laugh. “Didn’t take you for a puker, Lynch,” he said and knocked on the back of his seat.

Ronan half-turned and tried to give him a death glare between the seats, which proved harder than usual. But then, why would he care? The entire point of this exercise had been to protect Adam from being laughed at.

The stewardess reappeared with paper bags, chewing gum and some still water. “Have a good flight,” she said.

Ronan thanked her and pressed all of the items into Adam’s lap before he could protest.

“Thank you,” Adam mouthed back at him, and Ronan allowed himself to return a small smile.

When the plane started speeding up on the runway, Ronan firmly planted his headphones over his ears, the beat of the music drowning out the engine. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was driving a car faster than all the ones he’d had before.

Adam was still looking out of the window, knuckles white against his leg. Ronan sighed inwardly. How bad would it be if he just… took it? To prevent Adam from chewing a hole through his bottom lip, at least.

He closed his eyes again and decided to test his access to Cabeswater instead.

When Ronan woke up again, the plane was already in the air and Washington and New York only specks of light somewhere down below. There was little light left in the cabin, only a few passengers reading or playing on their phones instead of sleeping.

Ronan took his headphones off and suddenly became aware of a small pain that was spreading through his thigh. He looked down to where Adam was clutching onto him like for dear life, or dead set on cutting off his circulation.

“Sorry,” Adam whispered hastily when he noticed Ronan was awake, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just-“

He was white as a sheet, and Ronan almost wished he hadn’t let go of him. “It’s alright,” he replied, his voice still raspy and low from sleep, “Here, I got you something.”

He plopped a little pill that looked like a small, white ball into Adam’s hand. “What’s that?” Adam asked. “I’ve already got chewing gum.”

Ronan chuckled and leaned back again. “It’s a sleeping pill,” he said, “Will knock you right out and you’ll only wake up when we’re back on solid ground again.”

Adam eyed the little pill warily. Ronan supposed it was one thing to trust him, but trusting what came out of his head – that was a skill not even Ronan himself had mastered.

Finally, Adam nodded and placed the little pill on his tongue. “Thanks,” he whispered, before drifting off entirely, his head nodding to the side.

Ronan listened to his slow steady breaths as he felt Adam’s temple slowly coming to rest against his shoulder, trying to go back to sleep.

It was half an hour later, when he had tried to count the amount of freckles on Adam’s left cheek in the dark for a third time, that he remembered he had dreamed up two pills.

* * *

Once they had touched down in Rome, Adam discovered that while he couldn’t remember being as well rested as he was just then, the airline staff apparently also didn’t remember his luggage. Or that it belonged to him.

Because it didn’t get lost exactly, it had just taken an extra trip to Barcelona and was therefore terribly delayed.

Since they were flying with a better airline though, this meant that Adam suddenly found himself with a cheque in hand that contained more money than he had ever possessed at any one time in his bank account – especially considering that it was in Euro.

“To make up for the inconvenience,” the woman at the baggage claim office had said, a rapid Italian accent peppering her apologies, “You can use it in any one store on the high street. Our apologies again. We will get your baggage back as soon as possible.”

He had just gotten a voucher to update his wardrobe with the latest Italian fashion. Adam didn’t even manage to say thank you, his mouth dry from gratefulness.

When they arrived at the hotel, he had almost convinced himself that he was experiencing a streak of luck. _If you could see me now_ , he thought, breathing in the warm and spicy spring air of Italy.

This feeling lasted approximately as long as it took them to get to the hotel, where Mr Fairhead made them assemble in a half circle and started handing out room keys.

He had told them that he had booked a bunch of family lodgings and asked them to get together in groups of four prior to their arrival at the hotel.

Adam vaguely remembered him mentioning it in class, but now that he saw all of the others lining up he realised that that was something him and Ronan had failed to do.

When he caught Ronan’s gaze he just shrugged and nodded over to where Henry Cheng and Tad Carruthers were standing.

For a second, Adam marvelled how it could possibly be both Tad and Henry were the other outcasts in this scenario, but then maybe the two of them were too popular to room with the 'uncultured masses', as Henry jokingly liked to refer to everyone he considered beneath him.

 _Too bad they had to share with two freaks now_ , Adam thought. He didn’t know when he started becoming aware of the impression Ronan and him had on other people. It must have been sometime after Greenmantle fiasco that he realised the two of them tended to look a little creepy.

Henry approached them. “I was under the impression that Gansey was going to join us on this excursion,” he said, smiling at Adam as if it was his fault that Gansey wasn’t here.

Adam could almost sense that Ronan was about to make a scathing remark and stepped on his foot. If they had to share a room with them he’d prefer not to get murdered in his sleep. At least not right on the first night.

“Oh Cheng, who cares about Dickie the Third? We will graduate soon and who knows how long it’s going to be until we see each other again?” Tad chimed in and elbowed Henry in the side.

Adam had been wrong. There was no way in hell that Henry considered Tad to be on the same level of popularity as him after the annoyed glance he threw into his direction.

Mr Fairhead approached them. “Gentlemen, you’re on the sixth floor, room one. I will see you in the dining hall for refreshments later,” he said and handed Tad the key.

“Thank you, Mr Fairhead,” Tad called after him. Both Ronan and Henry rolled their eyes at his over-eagerness, but immediately seemed annoyed when they realised the other had stolen their gesture.

Adam looked at the ground and smiled.

“Shall we?” Tad asked and started towards the lifts, pressed the button and turned around. “Do you need help with your bag, Adam?”

Adam looked down at himself and back at Tad, demonstrating his lack of a bag and with that, his lack of need with one. Ronan caught his gaze over Tad’s head and let his eyebrows shoot up.

“Why don’t you have a bag?” Tad asked, seemingly aghast.

“Got lost on the plane,” Adam mumbled as he stepped into the lift, pressing against the mirror to make space for the others and their luggage.

“Oh my God these Amateurs,” Tad started, throwing his hands in the air, “But if you ask me, this is exactly the kind of stuff that happens when you _have_ to fly economy class because of a school trip. They don’t treat your bag with the same care then, I tell you.”

Before nodding, Adam peered up at Ronan to see if he looked about as horrified as Adam felt at the insinuation that flying economy, a plane ticket that still cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, somehow meant you were treated a lesser human being.

“I would sue them,” Henry offered as he straightened his suit jacket in the mirror, “try to milk any cent they will give you out of them. The airline wasn’t that bad, you would get together a nice little sum of money, Parrish.”

“They did pay some compensation,” Adam said weakly and made a little wave with the cheque.

Henry gave him a small clap on the shoulder and stepped out of the lift. “Good on you, Parrish,” he said and trailed along to room number one, quickly followed by Tad with the key.

Ronan met Adam’s dumbfounded stare in the mirror. It was going to be a _long_ week.

* * *

The hotel they were staying in was _beautiful._ When Adam stepped into the room, he was sure his mouth must’ve fallen open at the sheer expanse of creamy walls and fluffy white sheets, and the windows that nearly touched the floor, allowing a sceneric view of the city in its afternoon glow.

It was one second later that he realised that they were in a family room. Which meant that there weren’t four single beds, as he had expected, but one double and two bunk beds.

Ronan had barged right past Tad as soon as he had turned the key and dumped his bag on the side of the double bed facing the window, before going to the bathroom, whistling.

Henry scrunched up his nose in outright disgust and shook his head. Then he took his bag to the lower bunk bed and started unpacking and folding his clothing, muttering to himself that he “sure as hell wouldn’t share a bed with a convict or try aerobics every morning”.

This left the upper bunk bed, easily the most unattractive sleeping location in the entire room, and sharing the bed with Ronan.

Normally, Adam would’ve just taken whatever the least popular bed would’ve been. Not that he had been on many school trips, since his father refused to pay for them, but being Adam Parrish came with a sense of knowing his place.

But if he were to take the upper bunk bed, then Ronan would have to share a bed with Tad Carruthers, and Adam wasn’t sure if he would ever forgive him for that.

To Adam’s immense surprise though, Tad seemed to be little inclined to either of the free beds and put his bag next to Ronan’s instead, settling down on his side of the double as Ronan emerged from the bathroom.

Ronan stopped in his tracks for a second, his brows furrowing as his gaze fell on Tad rocking back and forth on _his_ bed and smiling up at him.

Adam had to suppress a smile at Henry’s mortified expression, who had just realised what was about to happen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ronan asked, his voice rough and dangerous.

And while Adam knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, he didn’t see how Tad was still smiling when he got up.

“I was just going with the most obvious choice, Lynch,” he said, almost chirping, “See, you are the one with an affinity for aviation and with these ones here-“ Tad took a moment to pat Ronan’s biceps, which impossibly managed to darken Ronan’s expression even further, “I just think it would be easiest for you to climb every day.”

Tad smiled. Adam was fairly certain that he had stopped breathing at some point, and was praying for Ronan to react quickly because he couldn’t possibly hold out any longer.

But Ronan’s appraising gaze morphed into an incredulous stare only very slowly, with every inch that he managed to drag up his eye brows.

He raised his hand, but instead of slapping Tad across the face – and Adam had an inkling that this would have to happen before they graduated – he picked Tad’s hand from his arm without taking his eyes off him.

“And knock my head on the ceiling every day I get up?” Ronan said, Tad finally faltering under his stare. “Also, wanting to share with Parrish is one thing, but these were the most stupid ass reasons I’ve ever heard.”

Tad’s face colour immediately changed to a burning beet-red, his head dropping low like that of a scolded child.

To Ronan’s credit, he didn’t relish in his win and simply went to take Tad’s bag of his bed. Henry was still watching him with calculating eyes and a small smirk around his lips. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered, but Adam was pretty sure that only he had been able to hear it.

Tad scooped up his bag and put it on the upper bunk bed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, like Ronan was a particularly childish person that he had to deal with. “It’s not like it’s that important where you sleep, anyway,” he said, “What counts is the experience of the trip, right?”

Ronan looked at him like knowing Tad in the first place was an experience he’d have happily done without. Tad excused himself to the bathroom.

Adam sighed deeply and let himself fall back on the other side of the bed. He didn’t care about sharing. No, that was not quite the truth. He didn’t mind sharing with Ronan.

It was not like they hadn’t fallen asleep next to each other time and time again, from exhaustion or because of dream experiments, and even if there were Henry and Tad sleeping across the room, it didn’t make it… awkward.

Everyone knew they were friends. It was Ronan and Adam who had a hard time coming to terms with that fact.

“Nice,” Ronan said from a corner of the room, “We’ve got a mini-bar.”

“Oh wow,” Henry replied in a sarcastic tone, sprawled out in his bed and book propped against his knees, “because underage drinking sure is the way to go.”

Ronan gave him a savage smile and opened a bottle of beer. “When in Rome, do as the Romans,” he said, “Legal drinking age in Europe is eighteen, my friend.”

Henry shook his head and turned his attention back to his book, something that Adam admired and sort of envied him for.

His books were in Barcelona, but even if he had them here with him, he would have a hard time ignoring Ronan leaning against the window to concentrate on anything.

Instead, he pushed himself up from the bed and checked for the cheque in his pocket. “I’ll see if I can get clothes somewhere,” he said as a good-bye and left the room.

* * *

Adam had always thought clothes shopping made him self-conscious because he never really had the money to spare for something as luxurious as a T-shirt, or because whatever he picked seemed to hang off of him like a blanket.

But neither of these things were the case in Italy, and he still didn’t know how to deal with it. Maybe it was the elderly shop assistant, who flitted around him and commented on his face and his body in broken English, breaking into exclamations of “che bello, che bello” whenever he left the changing rooms and showered him in kisses and little pats on his bum until he had finally, after what seemed like hours, enough clothes together to last the week.

Adam decided he just didn’t like shopping.

After dinner in the hotel, they all received little schedules of where they had to be at what time every day, and apart from the fact that Adam’s study plans had clearly fallen flat already, it was not like he would’ve had the time anyway.

From early Monday morning, Mr Fairhead paraded them through the city, trying to get them to take in as much culture and history as they could.

There were mini pop-quizzes in front of the Colosseum, to see if they remembered where Caesar got stabbed (and how often, and when) and that it was all just a conspiracy theory and Mr Fairhead liked to launch into long lecturing sermons while they visited the Sistine Chapel.

They translated inscriptions on older buildings and took a class on how modern day Italian differed from the Latin they learned in school.

“Do you think Madonna named herself after the paintings and statues?” Tad wondered aloud as they were walking through the St Peter’s Basilica, “And what makes a basilica a basilica?”

Adam wanted to turn around to roll his eyes at Ronan, but Ronan had already leaned in to whisper in his ear, his breath tickling Adam’s neck.

“Did you know that all churches in Italy fall under the jurisdiction of the Vatican?” he whispered, and Adam couldn’t help but feel a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

“That means if you were to kill someone on grounds of a church, the Italian police couldn’t arrest you, because they would need a warrant of arrest from the Vatican first. And as with all things, the Vatican is _slow_.”

Adam hid his mouth behind the flyer’s they had gotten at the entrance of the church and met Ronan’s gaze over his shoulder.

There was slightly malicious mirth and glee in there, and Adam could feel his eyes wrinkling up as he removed the flyer and returned his brassy smile.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he whispered, and both of their gazes aligned on Tad’s head like two cross hairs, who was standing in front of a Jesus sculpture and hummed ‘Hung Up’ to himself.

Then they looked back at each other and broke into snorted laughter, that ended in Adam mildly punching Ronan’s side so he’d quieten down and Ronan pinching his hip in retaliation.

Adam couldn’t remember ever being as happy or carefree as he was in Rome, with the mild spring sun heightening his senses and all the troubles and worries he had ever associated with Henrietta literally thousands of miles away.

It was like every morning he woke up from the light tickling his nose and not his alarm clock, and he turned around to find Ronan asleep in a mountain of white fluffy sheets, he awoke as a different person, a version of Adam Parrish that had never seen the light of day before.

Adam didn’t know how yet, but he knew that he would have to hold on to this Adam Parrish with all he had.

* * *

It was Thursday night already, when Adam was lying on his bed with his arm over his eyes, that he didn’t feel like going to bed immediately for a change. Not being tired after sunset seemed like such a strange concept, he almost couldn’t believe it.

The following day would be their last day in Rome, and he was sure that Mr Fairhead had once again packed it full with cultural activities that he would need any energy he could get for.

He sat up and crossed his legs. “What’s on the plan for tomorrow?” he asked Ronan, who was just about to join him with a beer in his hand.

Tad and Henry had fled a little earlier to spend time with their friends, or whatever the other Aglionby boys were to them.

Ronan set his beer down on his nightstand and rummaged around under the bed until he found one of the schedules they got at the beginning of the week.

“Uh,” he said and scratched his head, “nothing.”

“Nothing?” Adam asked, almost incredulous and reached for the schedule to check for himself.

“Uhuh,” Ronan said, handed the paper over and took a swig from his beer.

Decrumbling the paper, Adam felt the entry for Friday almost staring up at him and he wondered how he could’ve missed it.

_Friday – formative self-exploration of city and Italian culture. 8pm: opera visit, La Traviata, Via Nuoro Rome_

“Huh,” Adam said and met Ronan’s eyes over the piece of paper. He couldn’t remember the last time he had truly had a day off, with no obligations, no plans with anyone, no nothing. (He decided not to count the opera visit as an obligation, as it was something that he had sort of dreamed of doing forever.)

He let himself fall down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. But if he had time off, then what did he _do_?

He sat back up again and started looking for one of Henry’s books that he had left somewhere underneath their bed.

Ronan set his half-empty beer back down again and leaned against the headboard of their bed, with crossed arms and furrowed brows. Adam could almost feel his piercing stare at the back of his neck, but then, Ronan had never had anything but free time. He should know what to do with himself.

“Hey Parrish?” Ronan said.

Adam closed the book he hadn’t been reading anyways and turned around. Ron was biting down on the side of his lip and seemed to muster Adam. “Yes?” Adam said.

“You wanna go for dinner?”

Adam experienced a strange rushing sensation, as if all the blood from his body had shot right up to his head and back into all of his limbs again at the same time.

Ronan had said it with a small smile and an expectant eyebrow, which was somehow alluring and extremely casual all at once. They had been to Nino’s so often, with all the others, just with Gansey, alone, when even Blue wasn’t working there.

The only issue there had always been money. But right then, Adam knew he had enough Euros left from the extra scholarship that he could’ve gone and gotten pizza at Nino’s for all of them had he wanted to.

He had maybe had a sandwich earlier, but Adam was one of those people who were always hungry, and giving delicious Italian food a pass seemed like a sin.

“Why not?” He raised one shoulder as nonchalantly as he could muster, and saw the muscles in Ronan’s neck relax. “Let me get changed.”

* * *

Adam put on the last pair of jeans he had bought from the elderly lady. It’s fabric looked heavy, but was smooth against his skin and he could feel it clinging to his backside right underneath the two dimples of his back, the dark blue, almost black colour a nice complementation against his tanned skin.

But Adam wasn’t one to spend much time admiring himself in the mirror, so he shrugged on a soft red t-shirt and padded out of the bathroom.

Ronan was leaning against the door of their hotel room, leather jacket over a white t-shirt instead of a tank top for once. His face did a strange thing that Adam couldn’t quite place when he approached him at the door.

“Is that okay?” Adam asked, looking down at himself and scratching his neck with his right arm.

Ronan followed the line of his gaze, but didn’t speak right away. When Adam looked back up, Ronan just stared at him for a second, nodded, and then said: “Yeah, no, fine. Looks good. After you.”

Then he stepped back and held the door open.

They were walking down the _Via del Babuino_ , away from the _Piazza del Popolo_ as the sun began to set. Adam had shoved his hands deep in his jeans pockets and tried to enjoy the mild warmth that was simmering from the streets, but it was whenever he glanced over at Ronan that he could feel a sudden heat somewhere in his chest and his heart speeding up.

Before long, Ronan stopped at a back street and pointed a small house ornate with green metal that seemed to be a _taverna_ and reminded Adam instantly of 300 Fox Way. Adam nodded and followed Ronan inside, who once again held the door for him.

Normally, Adam maybe would’ve said something, about how he was capable of doing things on his own and that Ronan _knew_ that, but he was momentarily taken aback by how cozy and inviting the interior of the tavern looked, almost like somebody had cut a picture from a Lonely Planet edition, and Adam and Ronan had managed to jump right into it.

It was exactly the type of thing that was not overtly rich, but also not for the masses and with that, qualified for everything that Adam never did dare dream about.

“Buonasera, signiorini” A waiter showed up at their table, which was made out of an old wine barrel, and lit the candle on top of it, before handing them their menus.

Adam had never been bad at Latin, per se, but Italian was a step too far. This did not seem to be a common place for tourists, and therefore the entire menu was in Italian.

He looked up at Ronan, who was lit up by the warm glow of the candle light and smiled, insecure. “How are we going to do this?” he asked, and pointed at the menu, apprehensive to embarrass himself.

But Ronan just smiled. “Watch this,” he said, and produced a small object from his pockets that looked like the loose braces some of the seventh graders still had to wear, but in black and with a far more delicate design.

Ronan placed it in his mouth, and for a second, Adam thought he had swallowed it, before he realised it had just become invisible.

“Scusami?” Ronan said to get the waiter’s attention again, and it sounded to Adam as if he had known Italian his entire life. “Vorremmo una bottiglia di vino, il nero d’avola con due bicchieri, una pizza fiorentina per il mio compagno e una puttanesca per me. E una bottiglia di acqua, per favore. Grazie mille.”

Adam wasn’t sure whether the waiter knew how very few people got to see the smile Ronan was currently showing him, but hearing Ronan speak Italian had left little room in his head for any other thought than ‘ _oh_ ’.

“Ottimo,” the waiter replied and took their menus away again, smiling at Adam who was fairly certain that he looked incredibly dumbfounded.

When the waiter was out of sight, Ronan took the small object out of his mouth again and dabbed it dry with a napkin.

“What was that?” Adam asked.

Ronan placed the small object on the napkin and handed it over to him. “Dreamed it up,” he said while Adam inspected it, “It makes you speak and understand whatever language the person you’re talking to speaks best.”

Adam smiled. It was beautiful.

“So if you’re wearing it and you’re talking to Gansey, you would also suddenly sound like the mum friend? Or a nerdy grandpa trapped in a teenager’s body?” he asked and handed it back to Ronan.

Ronan laughed. “Sure,” he said, “It probably also manages ‘angry feminist’ for Blue.”

Adam chuckled with his tongue between his teeth and slightly kicked Ronan for the jab. “Can it do ghost?” he asked.

“Easy.” Ronan leaned back in his chair, “Your Henrietta drawl though-“

He stopped mid-sentence and wiggled his hand to demonstrate his uncertainty about it. Adam felt a blush creeping up his neck and was very grateful for the waiter coming back with a bottle of water and pouring their wine.

Ronan held his glass up for a toast, but Adam had only placed the stem of his wine glass between his index and middle finger, idly moving them up and down.

Ronan cocked his head to one side.

“I don’t know,” Adam said, meeting Ronan’s eyes with a conflicting expression.

Ronan set his glass down and sighed. “If I accidentally quote Tad Carruthers, so be it, but: This is an experience. We’re in Italy. Come on.” He looked up at Adam from beneath his lashes, and Adam got the uneasy feeling that if Ronan should ever conquer and strive for world domination, it was this look that was going to get him far.

“I’m also pretty sure I shouldn’t drink it all on my own,” Ronan said with a glance to the wine bottle that was still three quarters full.

Adam sighed and picked up his glass for a toast. “Alright,” he said, “Because it’s Italy.”

Ronan gave him a blinding smile when he took a sip from his glass. It didn’t taste as sour as he had expected, but the liquid felt like it was somehow heavier on his tongue than in the glass, and it left behind a strangely mellow feeling in his mouth.

It wasn’t something that he would go out and buy at home for himself, but it seemed strangely fitting for this night in Rome. Which was strange really, because when Adam looked at Ronan and him sitting there, they were so obviously out of place, easily the youngest in a Tavern full of Italians who had probably frequented this place for years, but then, from time to time, Ronan would turn his head in the candle light, a small gleam in his eyes that made him appear so much more approachable in this particular moment, in this restaurant, here with Adam.

Like Adam had somehow earned this moment, this sweet and soft part of Ronan as well, but this time, Adam couldn’t for the life of him figure out what with.

The waiter showed up with their food again, and Adam was temporarily convinced that the only possible explanation that he was even _here_ had to be that he had passed away and was now allowed to dine with the angels.

The serrano ham on his pizza was perfectly tousled together with the parmesan, and it took only one bite for him to decide that he could never have Nino’s pizza again, not ever, after he had tasted the combination of spices in this tomato sauce.

Ronan chuckled when Adam groaned slightly. “That good?” he asked.

Adam could only nod weakly and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “What do you have?” he asked.

“ _Spaghetti alla puttanesca_ ,” Ronan answered, and scooped some up with his fork. “Before you ask, yes, it does literally translate to ‘spaghetti prostitute-style’, but I swear it is considered a classic Italian dish by now.”

Adam hadn’t been about to ask that, but he nodded anyway. “Why?” he asked, “Is it called that, I mean.”

Ronan chewed on his spaghetti for a few seconds, looking thoughtful and then answered: “Because it is made only with ingredients out of cans that you can store for a really long time. See, prostitutes weren’t allowed in most convenience stores a few decades ago even, or they always had to work when the convenience stores were open, so they had to stock up on ingredients for pasta that would last a long time: spaghetti, tomatoes, olives, capers, garlic and anchovis. Do you wanna try it?”

Adam could only look at him with marvel for a second. This was exactly the kind of story Gansey would’ve usually told him, and never in his life had he expected to hear something like it from Ronan. But then they had always been best friends, long before Adam had even been there with them, and long before Ronan… had become Ronan.

Was this what Ronan looked like when he showed genuine excitement for something?

Adam nodded at his expectant gaze and watched Ronan scoop up a forkful of spaghetti for him with a few elegant twists of his wrist.

If so, then he was _beautiful_.

Ronan held the fork out to him and, as if Adam’s brain had gone on short-circuit for a second, he did not take it from him, but leaned forward instead, closing his mouth around the spaghetti and gently sucked them from the fork.

He made the mistake of looking up as he drew back. Ronan looked at him with a mixture of apprehension and wonder, his mouth half-open as if he wanted to say something and the fork hanging between them in the air.

Adam held his hand in front of his mouth to hide his chewing, then swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Delicious, your pasta,” he said and tried to go back to cutting his pizza without shaking fingers. Ronan had taken the fork back to scoop pasta for himself again, but the heat that had been in Adam’s chest had now ventured to his belly. It took a lot of self-restraint for him not to ask for another fork of spaghetti, because he had been too distracted to taste anything and he very much would’ve liked to.

* * *

Objectively speaking, Ronan was fucked.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t known for about a year that he had _feelings_ for Adam and declared them the bane of his existence, made them into everything that he tried to push away on a daily basis just so he wouldn’t regularly embarrass himself, but then- this.

Adam letting him order for him, laughing about all of his jokes and eating his pasta like that, Ronan had to take a few seconds to make sure his heart hadn’t stopped right then and there.

He hadn’t even planned for this to seem like a date. It had just sort of… happened.

And there he was, walking down a quiet street in Rome late at night with Adam Parrish, the moon light making his hair look like the misty shadow only angels would appear in, and he couldn’t believe that at last in his life, he would consider himself something akin to _lucky_.

Adam cleared his throat. “That was nice,” he said, he said, hands still shoved deep into the pockets of this pair of jeans that clung to his ass in all the right places, just so that it made Ronan nearly uncomfortable walking the streets with him because he was afraid it could be considered _obscene_ , and Adam was completely oblivious to it.

But he didn’t say more than “mhm,” because all in all, maybe Adam was just a little too pretty to deal with just then, the remains of a bit of tomato sauce stuck to his outer lip and making it look even more enticing.

Ronan wanted to lick it off. He also wanted to punch the wall next to him. He wanted to twist his fingers into Adam’s hair and pull, just a little, but even more he wanted to place little kisses on his cheekbones like marble and look into his eyes until there was nothing else left he could see.

This entire evening had been a horribly bad idea. But Ronan didn’t want it to be over.

“Wait one second,” Ronan told Adam when they reached the lifts in their hotel lobby.

It was so late, the bar was fully deserted and the barkeeper simply handed the bottle of wine Ronan asked for over and didn’t let him pay for it.

Back in the lift, Ronan lightly swatted Adam’s handed away from the floor buttons, and instead of six, pressed the highest number available.

He could see himself in the mirror on the ceiling, bouncing impatiently up and down, and Adam beside him, with a reserved and curious look on his haughty face.

But he didn’t say anything, and when they reached the top floor, he followed Ronan to the end of the corridor without complaint.

Ronan had to try a few of the doors down there, but at the third push, one of the doors opened up to a small flight of stairs that led to the roof of the hotel. Judging from what Ronan had seen from the window in their room, the view had to be amazing.

“Is this trespassing?” Adam whispered behind him, but it was not the voice of a scared boy refusing to get into a shopping cart anymore.

This was Adam, smart, observing, making sure he knew exactly what he signed up for.

“Well I hope so, or otherwise you will never have let loose and done something mildly illegal, Mr ‘Secretly A Pensioner’ Parrish,” Ronan joked and climbed to the roof.

“Very funny,” Adam commented from below him and followed suit.

“I know, my mum always used to tell me I was a delight,” Ronan said when Adam came to stand beside him.

“She’s a liar,” Adam replied, half to him and half to the city below them. The view was stunning, and Ronan felt out of breath just standing there at the edge of the building.

“How dare you insult mum,” he breathed, mock-affronted.

“I haven’t said a single thing about Gansey!” Adam protested and they both broke into laughter.

It was easy to feel free when you were on top of the world, and Ronan had long stopped considering this place anything less than that.

They both sat down on the middle of the roof, the noises of cars rushing faintly somewhere deep down below them, cicadas in the air.

Ronan opened the bottle of wine he had brought and offered Adam the first swig.

“Wait,” Adam said. He shoved his arm into his bag and procured two wine glasses after a bit of tapping around.

“Where did you get those from?” Ronan asked, and looked on in awe as Adam continued to pour them wine.

“Stole them from the restaurant,” Adam admitted without remorse and threw Ronan a smile with a small glint in his eye. “Thought otherwise I might never do something mildly illegal.”

Ronan smiled as Adam handed him his glass and they drank in silence, nothing but darkness and the city and the moon around them.

Adam lay back on the roof and looked up at the stars, or what little he could make of them against the city lights. Ronan was left to look down at him, his long fingers balancing the glass of wine on his stomach and his eyes closed as if he was listening to a type of music Ronan couldn’t hear.

“Are you cold?” Ronan asked, as mild chill in the air wafted over them.

Adam shook his head and just kept smiling at the moon, his expression soft and child-like, his skin aglow with the moon light, a stark contrast against his eye-lashes.

Ronan had to tear his gaze away and lay down next to Adam. He was trying to ignore their proximity as best as he could, but he could hear Adam’s breath and how it resonated with his own, feel the warmth of his skin just inches from his own, and he knew he shouldn’t look, but-

Ronan held his breath and turned his face slightly sideward, catching Adam’s silhouette against the dark. Adam had turned to face him, his head propped up on his arm and a wine glass standing between them that Adam was slowly pushing away.

“Were you trying to get me drunk?” he asked, but a smiling was playing around his lips, and impossibly, he wasn’t mad with Ronan.

He was so close then, Ronan could smell all the little things that Adam seemed to carry around with him wherever he went, and that, if asked, would always identify him to Ronan. It was a light mixture of sweat, forest and dust, a mild shimmer of gasoline and grease, and right then, the rich tones of tomato and wine, somehow both Henrietta and Rome at the same time.

It drove Ronan _crazy_.

Still holding his breath, he shook his head, too scared to make a noise in case it came out as nothing but a whimper.

“Good,” Adam said, his eyes narrowing in on Ronan’s face, “Didn’t work anyway.”

Then he leaned in to kiss Ronan, placing his free hand on the roof next to his head. His warmth seemed to engulf Ronan a second later, his lips moving against Ronan’s felt soft like raspberries, the mildest of pressure building up until Ronan was greedily pressing back.

He felt like he was going to implode, his heart hammering like it was trying to take his chest apart. Adam opened his mouth lightly and he was unable to breathe, running his tongue against Adam’s over and over like they were trying to become one.

It was almost like fireworks exploding behind his eyes when Adam slid his hand from where it was firmly planted on the roof over Ronan’s shoulder to his scalp. He couldn’t help but make a sound low in his throat and pulled Adam on top of him by his belt loops, making out until the both had to draw back, gasping for air.

Ronan felt slightly dizzy. “Were you trying to get _me_ drunk, Parrish?” he panted, grinning up at Adam above him.

Adam’s expression turned a little sheepish and he attempted to shrug with the arm that he supported himself with next to Ronan. “Maybe?”

Ronan scoffed, a tantamount of fondness taking over his heart. “I think you need to try harder. I’m not addicted yet.”

Adam rolled his eyes but leaned back in again. “That can be arranged,” he whispered into the crook where Ronan’s neck met his ear and kissed a line back to his mouth.

And Ronan was falling, or flying, or maybe both, but he was doing it with Adam, and somehow, that meant that it was right.

* * *

Hours later, Adam wondered how they had made it back to their bed.

He wasn’t hungover, but he couldn’t remember. But he also didn’t spend too much time thinking about it, and instead decided to snuggle closer to Ronan again, whose head was resting the crook of his shoulder, his hand sprawled lazily over Adam’s stomach in a possessive gesture that Adam found strangely endearing.

Henry walked past their bed with an espresso and an Italian newspaper in his hand. “Congratulations, Carruthers is crying in the bathroom,” he commented blandly but winked at Adam, who was sure that he still looked more groggy than alive and couldn’t possibly deal with that information this early in the morning.

Ronan shifted next to him, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone. “Morning,” he whispered, his head half hidden under the monstrous, fluffy covers. “What’s up?”

“Tad is crying,” Adam whispered, and Ronan grumbled something as an answer, but he had no way of understanding him like this.

Ronan rubbed his eyes and slowly sat up, smiling down at Adam as if mornings like this were the norm instead of the exception. But it made Adam feel like maybe it could be, and the thought alone made his stomach tingle with warmth.

“Let’s get breakfast,” Ronan said, and slapped Adam’s thigh.

The ventured out to find a small café where they could have a typical Italian breakfast, an espresso at the counter and then a croissant for on the go.

Eating a croissant was always slightly messy, but Adam thought it was only made worse by the fact that they didn’t stop holding hands while they were eating, getting crumbs everywhere.

But it didn’t matter, at all. Why would they care if no one was there to know them anyway?

They passed a little souvenir shop and Adam stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait,” he said.

“Hm?” Ronan turned around to him and eyed the souvenir shop warily. Not exactly the type of stuff either of them would spend money on, but Noah would probably have a field day.

“We need to get a post card for Blue,” Adam said, “I completely forgot.”

Ronan rolled his eyes but pointed at a little machine across the street. “Do you want to get a customised one?” he asked and dragged Adam in front what appeared to be a camera.

From the menu, you could select different monuments and sights around Rome that you wanted to be in the background, type what you wanted to appear on the postcard and then print it out immediately and send it off.

Ronan immediately started typing away at the screen, selecting the Colosseum for the background and attuning the camera to where Adam was standing. Then he got to the part where he had to put in the writing that was going to appear below their picture.

“How do we do this, what do we write?” Adam asked, unsure of what Ronan wanted to do.

But Ronan just turned around, winked at him and started typing _From Rome, With Love_. He pushed the automatic release and sidled up next to Adam, one arm around his waist.

“Then we’ve got until the card arrives to figure out how to tell them,” he whispered into Adam’s ear and pressed a kiss on his cheek, which put an involuntary smile on Adam’s face right when the picture was taken.

It wasn’t the best picture Adam had ever seen of the two of them – but it was the one he felt like he deserved the most.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me about Pynch on [tumblr](pynchie.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, btw, I sort of neglected basic geography here. I don't think Ronan and Adam would perceive Italy as _that_ warm, because from a global perspective Virginia is closer to the equator than Rome, and April doesn't tend to be all that warm in Europe, actually. Okay, mini-geography lesson for the day over, I hope you don't mind too much!!


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